The Frey Who Would Be King
by TheDawnSword
Summary: Set 24 years after the end of the song of ice and fire, The other's have been destroyed with the bloody sacrifices of the kingslayer, Jon Tagaryen rules in king's landing, the black prince rules in storm's end, and the north torn to shreds. The Frey's are hated, the name is a curse meaning treason and hate. One Frey is determined to carve his name in the history books.
1. Chapter 1

Beric Frey long face reminded her of the stoic face of the bastard king, but the eyes held something deeper, something darker that his mother had ever seen. When his father had passed Beric looked to her his lips a tight line on his face giving nothing as he looked to his lady mother.

"He accomplished nothing," He paused, as if considering some trifling matter of coin, "He was a good man, and a better father."

The boy had learned that weakness was to quashed as he lived through the dance of twins as the singers had begun to call it. The boy had been a frail youth, but with each passing day he seemed more robust, and as much as she hated to admit it the Dayne girl was helping him far more than she was. The Dayne girl's smiling face came to haunt the quiet moments, what was she laughing at. Lady Maryan Frey was suddenly brought out of her thoughts as the septon stepped forward from the amassed figures, and bowed once to her before turning to her son. The boy, no the man that stood next to her had barely reached his 17th name day, but with his prodigious height he looked every bit the lord. His face sported a scrappy mess of a beard with only his mustache growing to any sizeable length. The near black hair gave the vibrant blue of his eyes an intensity that reminded her with a shiver of the young wolf who had died in this very hall. When had he grown up she wondered as the man knelt, even kneeling the old shriveled septon struggled to reach high enough to get the chain over Beric's head. One boy some lordling of Harrenhall guffawed audibly, but was quickly silenced by an older brother's elbow. Her son took the chain from the septon, patting the older man's hands amiably, and whispering some comforting word to him. The septon a grim faced man of nearly 80 allowed himself a small smile before turning to the crowd holding her son's hand.

"And he stands as lord of the crossing, and bannerman to Edmure Tully.." The words went in one ear, and out the other, as the dreams and fears of the past 20 years melted away. Her son was alive, and the lord of the twins, in her wildest dreams she never imagined that it would be them, so much death, and blood-shed. She smiled dreamily, now it was on his shoulders to make it mean something. Once more however her thoughts were interrupted by the septon.

"So if no one contests the right of Beric Frey to ascend the seat then…" He was cut off by the booming voice of Olyvar Frey.

"My good lords of the riverlands, you all know me well, but my son is the rightful heir to the twins after my late father, I will make no claim, but this seat belongs to my boy." A murmur went through the crowd as they looked to Olyvar, and his youth of barely 15 who seemed far too small for his sword, and shield. She had been expecting Olyvar to pull something like this, but her son had insisted that the man be allowed to try to oppose his claim. She could see his stern eyes as he told her how if he tried to silence the man he'd only be giving credence to his argument, but all she was occupied wondering how her boy who had broken his arm trying to catch a butterfly on horseback had turned into the person before her. The other half looked up to Beric waiting for his response.

Methodically the not quite lord Frey reached over his shoulder making a show of detaching the long cape embroidered with the two towers of the twins, and taking off the chain of Targaryen dragon, and the Tully fish underneath. The chain he tossed to Raesel Dayne who smiled impishly back, when Beric reached Olyvar he stuck his hand as if too shake it.

"Olyvar I respect you, and though I've never met him I've only heard sweet words spoken of your son. We both know the late Walder Frey disinherited you before he died." He smiled wearily at the child who seemed like a dwarf by comparison, "Besides the last thing I want is any more Frey blood spilled in these halls. Mine or his." Olyvar let out a breath before accepting the hand in front of him.

"Neither of us thought we would be anywhere near the seat of the twins, eh?" He released the young man's arm. "My son has the stronger claim, I might be disinherited, but Emmon reinstated my sons honors. We will present this to the king let him decide." The last sentence was said in desperation as he knew what the other option was.

"I am sorry Olyvar, I will let this go no further, no one witnessed this reinstallation except yourself, and the Black Walder, whom is dead." Olyvar was a handsome man deep into his 30's, but he was forced to look up to Beric. "I will give you a chance, a trial by combat, if you have the stomach for it we will let the god's decide." Every man and woman would swear when this was said, the gleaming eyes of Beric turned a few shades darker. To Olyvar's credit he didn't quake were smaller men might under the icy stare of Beric.

"I am sorry too." He seemed to deflate as he finished his thought. "Ser Beric Frey I challenge you to single combat on behalf of my son, for the seat of the twins." How clever he thought himself, if Beric declined his position would never truly recover not in the eyes of surrounding lords, but if he accepted the claim it suddenly seemed much more legitimate.

"Father you said you'd let me fight him for it." The boy, Robb Frey, suddenly seemed to turn back into a child, his gleaming armor, and well made leather suddenly meant naught. Olyvar kneeled in front of his son, looked as if he was about to say something, but thought better, and pulled him into a hug that said more than Olyvar could ever say. Kevan Bracken touched Olyvar's shoulder gently.

"I will second for you if you'll have me, I have long respected you're faith in the face of opposition." Olyvar nodded, and shook the young lord Bracken's hand firmly. Turning finally back to the tall boy in front of him.

"Name your champion let's get this done on the morrow, I will represent my son." He turned to leave with a few guards who had come in with him, but he was forced to pause as Beric spoke. His words rang through the silent hall, and the only breath heard in the hall was the fire in the hearth.

"I will fight you myself my lord. What was your wolf lord fond of saying. The man who passes the sentence…" He trailed off. Olyvar didn't even so much as turn around. The door closing ushered in a new silence somehow quieter than before. After a time Beric spoke once more.

"My lords and ladies. It seems I have wasted your time, the meat and mead of the twins is at your disposal if you wish to see what happens tomorrow." When the doors closed, and Beric had gone the spell broke. The hall became a cacophony of chatter, as everyone turned to the closest person to pinch them. As the lady of the twins followed her son out she heard the high voice of Raesel Dayne.

"Lords, and Ladies I will take your bets, let us start with the odds at 4 to 1 for Ser Olyvar, the wolf's shadow!"

Ok folks 15th tries the charm, I have exactly no computer skills. Sorry to any one who read it when it was broken, and I hope you enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

The Pirate Prince

The Merman's Hall was filled to the brim as it always was with the sound of laughter, and song. The sailors and merchants had settled there burdens at the door or they left it in the fourth or fifth cup of ale. The young wench ran from table to table bustling to keep up with the bulk of orders, she was a pretty thing in her late teens, although Entan wondered how much prettier she would be if he could get her to smile. One raucous table, who had apparently left their inhibitions with their worries a few flagons ago, had taken to see which could make the girl blush more. Entan watched passively as they escalated from proclaiming how beautiful she was to pinching her bottom as she passed, and laughing when she squeaked like a mouse. She disappeared through the curtain that separates the common area and the kitchen, and when she emerged again her already stiff lip looked close to disappearing. She passed by the end of the bar where Entan sat trying oh so hard to avoid crying. She was composed enough not to yell when Entan grabbed her arm, but she looked close to smacking him when she spun on him. Entan released her raising his hands in a symbol of peace.

"I apologize to you my lady," Entan stood and bowed slightly, but ended up a little too close to her when he stood up. "I couldn't help but notice that those men are bothering you, and judging from that bruise on your leg, the owner would have you do nothing about it." He looked with a queer intensity as if he could see right through her, and the girl was forced to retreat a step.

"Ser…"

"Don't say anything; just nod once if you would like me to," He paused "bother them." The girl retreated another step, and he could see her wonder if she could simply run away from the situation she's found herself in. Then it came the tightening that ran through someone as they made a decision that could change someone's life. She met his gaze, and stiffly nodded once.

The men were big and broad of the type that all sailors were, but between them they had two knives and the most sober had a small cudgel he'd left on the table. The loudest had just finished telling some bawdy tale, and the table erupted with loud voices, and general disbelief. The voices fell silent when Entan's gilded sword clattered to the table in front of them.

"Unfortunately gentlemen there have been several complaints concerning you, and I must ask you to clear out." Entan could hear their drunken minds melting trying to find the meaning of his words, eventually one of the men with a knife rose slamming the point into the table.

"The man-child is making fun of us." His thick accent came from the free cities, but he had the pale skin of a northorner. The one who had been telling the story turned, and let out a roar which interrupted even the furthest tables in the room. The sober one with the club paled.

"Lads I know who that is, it's him Entan Waters." He looked to the others who seemed not to hear him, and shook his head, "Boy even you can't stand against all six of us." Entan gentle laughter sounded like a gentle wind on a calm beach.

"I only count four of you." This drew confusion from most of the men, but the roaring man lunged at him blinded by rage, and whatever cheap draft he was drinking. Entan's punch came out of nowhere, but when the fist connected with the big man's throat, he went down without so much as a sound. One of the men near the Pentoshi slipped away as the other gaped, and then they came all four at once the Pentoshi man arrived first. One fist came down on his wrist, and as his knife clattered to the ground a second weapon appeared from somewhere in Entan's shirt. The remaining three slowed as they saw the glint of cold steel against their companion's throat. Entan's smile glinted just as dangerous as any knife.

"Gentlemen I see no reason this must go any further," He tsked as Pentoshi man struggled, and dug the dirk a little deeper into the soft flesh under the chin, and he fell quiet once more. "Now why don't you leave with what's left of your pride, and with this man's insides on the, well inside." The laugh was simultaneously mocking, and welcoming. The sober one gathered his friends, and after all three had left Entan released the pentoshi, and pointed at the large man still crumpled on the floor. "It appears your friend requires some help." The other man seemed to be following the order for a moment, but he turned suddenly. As fast as the Pentoshi was Entan was faster the sword he'd left just in arms reach was out and slid up through the air in one swift motion. The Pentoshi man clutched at the stump where his right hand once was, and the one they called the silver dread's laughter was replaced with something harder. His eyes the color of darkest sea in a storm so blue some would describe it as purple, but just as the other Entan appeared he left as he ran a hand through his short silver hair.

"Well friend I did try to warn you, now get your friend, and get the fuck out of here." From the crowd emerged a dark haired youth, and put his arm around Entan's.

"Alright everyone show's over the next rounds on me," A handful of golds was exchanged as he smiled merrily, "Why not the next few rounds." A cheer went out as Byran Celtigar led Entan out of the inn, with much shoving and laughing at the people around them. Once in the cold wind and on Greenstone's cobbled roads Byran twirled on the younger boy.

"You know you can't do that anymore, you're a member of the Dracrhys court you can't get away with attacking everyone who crosses your path." Entan laughed so hard it forced him onto his ass.

"But did you see the man's face when he realized his hand wasn't apart of his arm anymore, I thought he was going to die right there, from embarrassment." Byran tried to hold back his laughter, but after a few seconds of trying to pout his smile crept back onto his face, and he busted out laughing too. After a long moment of levity between the two friends, the sound of the inn's door silenced Byran. The silver boy laughed for a few seconds more before realizing his friend had turned back into the Celtigar he was. The twinkling eyes met the bartender's soft brown ones, they seemed to offer her a shoulder and mock her relentlessly in the same second.

"Milord you. I wanted to thank." She grimaced at her own faltering voice. "I've seen their type before, and you." She sighed suddenly, and stormed toward those troublesome eyes. "You didn't have to do that, and I appreciate it is all I wanted to say." He leaned down a little too close to her lips, and the eyes looked into her seeing all there was to see. As suddenly as he melted her heart he laughed in her face, his hot breath caressed her cheek as gently as the songs. Then he was gone, and the space where he once was felt colder than anything she'd ever felt.

"Unfortunately, as much as I would like to explore this." His words were roses pretty, and painful. "I have a meeting with my liege on some matter or another, perhaps next time I come through this old town." The words were only heard long after he'd left, along with the sudden realization that his breath hadn't smelled of any drink.

"Why do you break so many hearts, I don't think I've ever seen you take any of them up on the…" Byran turned a slight pink as he struggled to find the words, he looked to his companion for help, but all he found was that eternal smile that curved cruelly. Eventually Byran gave up, and shook his head. "Is it because you're a bastard? Tomert used to say that he was afraid of a bastard of his own." The moment hung by Byran knew better than to try, and rush his friend. They were at the docks, and the sun began poking its head above the far sea before Entan replied. "I never even considered marriage, or tumbling with any girl, growing up I had one thought that invaded every waking moment." He seemed poised to finish the thought, but Entan looked at his friend, and realized he'd never understand. To seek something so powerfully that everything else slides to the unimportant. Instead the smile returned, and he patted the hilt of the sword at his waist. "To see every man of the free cities with one hand short." He laughed, but it even felt hollow to Entan who prided himself on never questioning himself.

"You are a confusing man, but I would like you to know, I've been your friend as long as I can remember, and I'm not abandoning you anytime soon." Byran's dull black eyes were the counterpoint to his friends sparkling emotive eyes. This laugh was much fuller this time as he threw his arm over the crab prince, but the sound seemed to thank him.

A few things I was planning on posting this weekly, however I also thought no one would ever see this so as I reach the important 69 views mark I'll post this early as I have a bit of a back-log. So enjoy even if it's at my inability to end a sentence succinctly.


	3. Chapter 3

Beric

The heat was sweltering; this summer was shaping up to be the longest in a very long time, and the sun held everything down with an oppressive hand. When Olyvar switched to a light tunic to fit under his armor Beric briefly considered if he'd made the wrong decision. The man had turned from a skinny teenager to a man with muscles made out of necessity. The years of running, and fighting had left inumerable scars rippling up, and down his large back. On his back was the ink of the tattoo of the red wolf, his other reminder of where he came from Beric mused. The other was his son named Robb after the boy king that died in the hall behind Beric, the red wedding, he was too young to remember the event, but no matter how long he lived he would never escape that bloody legacy. Than another thought unbidden pushed into his mind, us three on this field we are the last freys, and soon that number would fall to two, once upon a time Beric Frey was born 45th in line to the lord of the crossing. A smile drifted across his face like a fallen leaf. Beric's squire was only a year younger but a combination of slight stature, and quiet temperament meant he looked like a child compared to the towering Beric. The squire attached the armor at shoulder and waist without as much as a word. When the shield came out Beric turned to study the boy.

"Bring the spear from my castellan, quickly." His tone was a little harsher than he wanted it to be, and the boy flinched like he'd cracked a whip. The boy paused only to shoot a curious glance before he scurried off to obey. Beric's attention returned to his opponent, and tried his best to replicate his father's steely gaze. The walk across the yard toward Olyvar was the longest trek he'd ever made or at least that's how it seemed. When he'd finally made it to the older gentleman, it was a moment before Robb noticed him he stared defiantly. Beric tried his best to cover the guilt that plagued his thoughts, but the boy seemed to sense it on him.

"Olyvar I beg you to reconsider, I'd rather you leading my troops than spending eternity behind the sept. You're a good man there is no reason we should fight, this will only end in sorrow, if not for you then consider your son." Olyvar struck an imposing figure, but Beric saw the flicker of hesitation behind the eyes, and the small light of hope blossomed in his chest.

"I'm doing this for my son." The smile was bitter, and full of mirth. "Besides I've been told you're no slouch, but I have no intention of losing this fight. I hear the Dayne girl has changed the odds to five to one in my favor. She doesn't seem to have much faith in you, for a ward you grew up with. Besides, I keep the old gods, you were barely a child when we finally pushed back the others, and the Kingslayer destroyed the night king, you're a summer child with summer gods." Olyvar searched for some sign that he'd knocked the lordling off balance, but Beric's shoulders fell ever so slightly.

"We stand together, those are our words." Beric laughed a dark sound of stones hitting each other, and the sudden shift in his attitude set Olyvar's nerves on edge, he could see it written on the older man's face. "You wouldn't guess it from these last few years; the brother's couldn't do anything that we couldn't do to ourselves better. It's just us." Beric's eyes fell to Robb, the realization hit his face first, and it took Olyar and the onlookers a moment to grasp what he was getting at. "If you want, I would like to arrange a marriage with some pretty sothorn lady, but I need you to renounce any claim on the twins for you, or any of your children." Olyvar made a noise somewhere between laughing and choking, and he looked close to pulling his sword then and there.

"I am still alive damn you, and you will pay for this outrage." When Beric turned on him Olyvar saw the face of the man that had appeared in the hall, something dark and cold lurked there ready to drown him in his own blood. He'd seen it on the face of the wights, like he was just a fly to be swatted out of the way. Suddenly the red went out of Olyvar's face replaced with a sickly white. Beric's smile was only inward as he felt the warm spread of self-assurance, he had done it, he had gotten Olyvar to beat himself before the bout even started, but the warmth fled quickly he had seen too many people slow down when they thought victory was assured. That's how his father had left him, without jumping the final barrier. By then the boy had returned to Beric spear in hand, and panting just under his breath. The spear was an unwieldy thing just over 8 feet in length, and the point spoke of craftsmanship that couldn't be found in just any blacksmithery. The wood was white as snow, and he saw Olyvar recognize the material.

"A cold comfort that this far south you'd find a small piece of your gods to see you off." Beric turned took the helmet from his squire's hand, and made his way to the center of the field. He turned in a circle the sun glinted off his thin armor that only covered his chest, making a show of turning to his mother, and kneeling. The world seemed to grow smaller as Beric focused on slowing his breath to a crawl, the helmet narrowed his peripheral. Even though he couldn't see her Rae's voice cut through the quiet rustle of the crowd that was forming around the grassy clearing.

"My lord would you like my favor." Despite himself the smile came unbidden to his lips, "Anything that would help you win I have five dragons on you after all." Beric tried as hard as he could to suppress a laugh, but the effort proved futile as she finished. "And I'll kill you myself if you lose this."

It took Olyvar a few more minutes to equip the last few pieces of his unadorned plate, and by the time he reached the center of the field the crowd had taken seats at the benches the servants had brought out that morning, the dark wood seemed at odds with the bright sun bleached dirt that peaked out from the tufts of glass that covered most of the field. The lady Maryan Frey had a small stage assembled at one end of the field to look over the arena such as it was. When finally Olyvar kneeled to her tightness grasped her throat, Beric could see her struggling to find the words, and after a moment too long the whispers and looks of pity began shooting her way. No one wanted to start something that could end in their child's death, but somewhere deep down she found the courage.

"Begin." She didn't even sit down as the word pushed its way into the silence. The two men turned to each other, and tapped weapons together spear point to the point of Olyvar's sword. Beric fell to a low stance, and immediately started falling back. He's stronger, he's faster, and he's more experienced, keep him off balance, and use your reach to your advantage. The bigger man pressed the opening matching him step for step the axe came down in an arc onto the shield; it was a powerful blow that almost knocked Beric out of his stance. With the axe coming back from the shield the spear burst with blinding speed at the exposed joint just under the shoulder, the older man grunted, and turned the point glancing of the breastplate skidded to a halt as Beric pushed with his shield breaking the engagement. His long stride carried him away from the wicked edge of his axe, but the older man was too tricky as Beric took his time backing up the man came down with all his weight where the long spear still lingered. Beric saw the action moments before he made the strike, time slowed to a crawl as he considered his options, the smart side of him screamed to fall back more maybe abandon the spear to gain some extra time, he was after all equipped with a small sword as a backup. As Beric thought of this another image appeared just behind his eyes, he saw Black Peter shove the knife into Lady Wyldes back, the sound of blade crunching solidly against her ribs, and he felt something deeper grip him. He brought the spear up as if to counter the blow, and ran directly into the larger man. It wasn't enough to stop the downward strike, but as the spear split down the middle the knife came up, and found the flesh of Olyvar's sword arm just above the elbow. The man roared angrily as the axe clattered he turned suddenly bringing his arms around taking the knife with him, Beric scrambled under the wild blow, and came up with a double handed strike under the chin. The blow sent the bigger man sprawling backwards, and the blow took him with such force it sent the helmet flying backwards. To his credit he recovers remarkably quickly for someone of his years, Beric for all his blows was looking worse off weaponless, shiedless, and on his knees. Olyvar laughed a full bodied laugh as he pulled a small dagger out of his belt.

"You fought bravely; I will carry these scars for the rest of my life. Yield or die." The bigger man kept a wary distance as he waited for the tall lord Frey's response. Beric shrugged with what little strength remained in his arms.

"I suppose I die like a man, I will leave my mark on this world or I will die bloody. I suppose it will be the latter. Today we stand alone." Olyvar laughed at the play on the Frey words. The loud squish of his boots were the only sounds save for Raesel fighting against Aemon Charlton and Dedrike Herenford to get to the field, they seemed to want to intervene themselves to Beric's pleasure. Beric tried his hardest to look defeated as he came up to his feet, the big man began running in a bull charge, the timing was supreme just before the blade reached his chest Beric put all his weight behind a fist that caught his opponent's shoulder. Olyvar seemed to have expected something of the sort as he let it hit him bringing the knife up with his offhand, the knife whistled then clanged loudly against the edge of Beric's helmet and eye guard. Raesel yelled, he saw his mother over the man's shoulder sob quietly, and somewhere behind him the cheer of a boy, that must have been Robb Frey. His eye met Olyvar's shocked gaze as he looked down at the broken piece of weirwood as it slid deep into the shoulder joint toward his heart, and for a moment only they knew like lovers whispering in the bed, a secret they shared. When his mouth opened to laugh he coughed up a large wet mess of blood, they were now kneeling on the cracked dirt staring into each other, and when Olyvar's body hit the ground a murmur of confusion ran through the crowd. It took what little strength for Beric to stand up, when the helmet came off a wave of disgust rolled through the crowd, he felt his fingers reach up to where his left eye had been. Then another feeling tugging at his pants, he looked to where the big man was crumpled on the ground. He knew what he had to do in that moment, it sickened him, he felt his heart turn over, and felt the sun beating down on his sweat covered brow. 'To be king' his voice was barely a whisper as he leaned down to pick up the helmet by the flared neck guard, and the whisper came again as he turned over Olyvar 'I will be king'. 'To inspire fear and respect' Beric straddled the man's chest and held the helmet above his head 'they will remember my name'. An animalistic rage consumed his body as the helmet crunched into the big man's face for the first time, when the helmet came down again he heard Bracken gasp aghast this one broke his cheekbone, and nearly popped out his eye. The third did pop out his eye, the fourth found his mouth and knocked the teeth back into the wolf's muzzle, the fifth nearly missed and the small point at the top of the helmet caught the ear ripping it clean in half. The sixth was not nearly kind as it found the jaw unhinging it in an instant, and the seventh knocked the jaw clean. There were six more blows before the young Herenford dragged him off, and then the boy was on him punching vainly against the studded leather before he was dragged off by Lord Bracken.

"An eye for a title, that seems fair, set me down." Dedrike ignored him, and started dragging him toward the twins. "I have to say something; you will help me stand bannerman." Beric tried his best to keep his voice even, and Dedrike paused in response his fist grasped tighter against the fabric of his vest. They waddled back to the platform where his mother waited, her face spoke of indifference but the tears flowed freely and fell down her cheeks staining the wood beneath her. Beric nodded in place of a bow and turned to the crowd of knights and lords, he saw second sons and eldest daughters, he saw his bannermen. The dragon wolf sat high in his chair, the court played at being important in king's landing , and even the river lord did not dain to come, the name of Frey was worth less than dirt, and he did not blame them he saw the blood shed same as them. They will regret not coming here, they will regret not seeing the birth of a king, that I swear with my blood. The eyes were on him, he had their attention, they will dream my dream he assured himself.

"Look at us, the unloved, the unfavored, bloodied, and the young. We are the lords of the riverlands, but they spit in our direction. They look at my twins and laugh behind their hands; I was the forty-fifth in line to these halls. We are the youngest sons to houses men like Edmure Tully will never remember, and I am fed up with it, sitting idly under the thumb of that mad child. They will remember us if I have to write it on the histories with the blood of my enemies, they will know each and every one of us as heroes, as kings. The long night is ended the sun is rising again I declare this will be the second age of heroes. A time that you or I can take what we want so long as we are clever, and true. I will tell you what I want. I want it all, everything the light touches, I will rule it all. I can only promise you one thing, more. More than you own, more than you dared to dream, I will dream for you, I will give you the mind to dream and swords to fight for it. You will give me your blood and we shall tear down the walls. We shall build a staircase of everyone's bones if that's what it will take. I ask all of you, here and now will you come with me, will you bask in the sun with me even if we have to cut through the bodies of a thousand men, of a hundred thousand." Beric's eye had taken on a frantic look the blue seemed to gleam purple, the smile on his face stretched from ear to ear and the teeth sparkled red with blood. Dedrike was the first to kneel, but it spread quickly from man to man, and then the women, a few removed themselves from the situation, and finally when Bracken knelt last the boy Robb was revealed. "They will hear our name's and tremble, but never again will they rape our lands." A cheer as they began to rise. "Never again will they harass the smallfolk of the riverland." another cheer. "We will carve our mark into this world." This cheer was hungrier than the previous he could tell. "We will tear the lions from their rock, and they will see their streets run with blood, and gold." The men who lived around the trident despised the Lannisters, Tywin's plunder of the riverlands meant they had all nearly starved; each man had lost a lover or a mother. Each woman had lost a babe, and each child a parent, the cheer was deafening. "I have no dragons, no direwolf, no sword of legend, people like us would never possess such things, I was no prophecy, and no bard knows my name. They will though with our minds and our will, we will burn our names into the very land which we stand." The roar was so loud that Beric's throbbing head felt like it might explode. "Tomorrow we will rise, it seems that at some point I've lost an eye, if you see it on the ground let me know, it will be the one looking to the horizon." The ones with tougher stomachs laughed loudly, but others looked a little green at the jest. Beric allowed himself a smile, and wondered if he'd gone too far with that, but earlier he loudly announced treason so maybe it wasn't the worst thing he'd said. "Greyjoy help me to the maester will you, unless you'd like to go home." The squire shook his head.

"Your dream is my dream." For the first time since he'd arrived Victarrion smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Byran I

The Winter Rose rose and fell gently as it tugged against the mooring that attached it to the ports that sat a few miles away from Storm's End well away from Shipbreaker Bay. The ship had been Entan's for less than a year, but the ship felt like him, his friend had cared for every little detail he had even gone as far as to purchase white riggings to as he put it 'contrast the black hull'. No one was exactly sure how Entan had gained possession of the small war galley, it was a queer piece of work inspired by the swan ships of the summer isles, and every crew member had a different story on how it came into his possession. They ranged from the mundane of finding it abandoned, the crew all dead on a small isle in the narrow sea, the stories also went to the truly ridiculous, one cook told everyone that Entan had charmed the Merling King that at the end of a night of drinking and gallivanting he shaped the ship out of a mountain just for his new companion. Byran had once asked Entan directly, the slight man laughed in his gentle way and told him the story was boring it was best if the men built it up in their hearts, and when pressed he had shrugged, and said that it was payment for a secret. Looking at the ship now it must've been an incredible secret to justify paying with the sleek black and gold of the hull, or the ruby rose carved into the wheel, or the beautiful metal work of the elaborately designed moon that was the figurehead. Byran let out a small sigh as he turned to his small, practical ship as it sat next to the decadence of The Winter Rose, Crab Claw looked a mere trading vessel, but the smile infected his face as he considered his beleaguered ship his thoughts moved to his beloved uncle. What Crab Claw lacked in charms it more than made up for in reliability it had served house Celtigar for more than 30 years, and Byran was proud that his father had allowed him the ship, even if it was only because his father thought it was unworthy of his older brother. He was dragged out of his thoughts by an arm thrown over his arm; he could almost feel his friends smile before he saw it.

"No need to get down about it, the Crab Claw is a strong piece of work, I love my Rose, but I could see myself at the helm of that speedy little beast." Byran smiled Entan really could see into his mind, but he supposed he could see more of Entan's mind than anybody else.

"Your words are kind, but let's not mince words The Rose looks like a ship of legend, every time I look at it I half expect Durran Godsgrief to be shouting commands to the crew." The laugh was light-hearted, and seemed to say 'you have the right of it'. Byran thought about the two of them a bastard, and a second son about to go and meet the storm lord himself from a house of bastards, this world seemed queerer everyday. "Perhaps it has to do with Dorne I've heard word of peasant uprisings plaguing the major cities."

"Maybe." Entan seemed unconvinced. "Although even if it is, it won't be what you're thinking of. Sailors say that the Yronwoods are pushing out any non-Dornish out of the land. If Aegon has any say we will try, and take it from them, he is still a hungry dragon." Entan laughed loudly and released the arm from his shoulder. "No point in wondering we will know soon, anyway I have a feeling that whatever happens here will be very," Pausing for effect Entan turned to meet him eye for eye. "Entertaining." Entan turned away, and headed for the stairs whistling tunelessly; as he passed one of the stalls he tossed the merchant and grabbed a fresh apple off the rows. The merchant paled as he looked at the solid gold, and shouted thanks after the disappearing back of the young man. Byran had to half run to keep up, even though Entan wasn't particularly tall he was deceptively quick.

"There is something that has been bothering me." Entan took a bite and began walking backwards. "Why didn't he send ravens they would have found us much faster, it mustn't be very important." Entan left the apple in his mouth and studied the sky thoughtfully; the juice of the apple began to drip down his chin.

"Or it's very important you know the stories ravens can be shot down, they say Dondarrions were raised to lords for delivering a message." Entan made the motions of a pretend bow and arrow, the apple that was supposed to be the arrow made the sight more comical than anything. Byran saw the man just before Entan walked squarely into, but he had no idea when the man's steel leapt to his hand. The man was heavily armored and Entan who looked a mere boy next to the imposing figure of the guard, he and Byran saw the seahorse clasp at the same time. "My lord I see you are in the service of the Velaryons, I meant no offense and we are on the same side here, I myself am in the service of the Dracrhys let us shed no blood on these dirty streets." Entan went to far when he laughed, at least that's what it seemed to Byran, the grey guard grunted and spit.

"The others take your loyalty you are a boy in need of a lesson, a summer child." The blade did not dip an inch, but when he saw Entan tense Byran pulled his own blade in a swift motion.

"The others are gone, but I see now the lie behind your house words, you certainly seem old but you don't seem to be particularly brave or true." Entan's smile was a thin line across his face and Byran knew he was keeping the anger below a few layers of stone. The laughter sounded so close to Entans it made Byran glance away from the grey man to the smiling face that was known the world. Byran quickly sheathed the sword; he tried to hide the slight tremble that had taken his hands.

"Lord Aurane what a pleasure it is to meet you, I wish that I had time to change these sea clothes leaves me ragged." Byran thought of every nicety he could summon as he approached the older man, he might as well have been a god Byran thought. Araune smiled brightly and grasped his outreached arm.

"You have the look of a Celtigar, perhaps the younger Byran. I will of course forgive your apparel; they say you walk steadier on a heaving sea than on land." Araune let out another laugh, Byran was able to manage a smile but not much more.

"Unfortunately my older brother is in King's Landing, I am loathe to ask of you something on this first meeting; however your guard seems to be threatening my friend." Aurane's smile widened slightly as he turned to his guardsmen.

"Garrell does this young man speak true?" Aurane stepped between the guard and Entan; they only had eyes for each other however. The sword vanished seemingly faster than it appeared.

"I apologize for my actions, this pup ran into me, and had the gall to talk to me like I was another commoner." The old man chewed on each word with a bitter expression, Entan glared daring the guard to try something, to let their swords speak truly. Aurane glanced at the boy then back to his man.  
"Unfortunately for all of us, the boy behind me is no mere commoner." Aurane turned to Entan with laughter on his lips. "The wraith of the narrow sea, Entan Waters. As hard as it seems to believe this is the 8 foot, half-kraken, apparently he is twice as clever as Lann, twice as strong as old king Robert, and more proud than all the Dornish men combined." If Garrell was impressed he did not show it, Entan for his part curtsied with an imaginary dress.

"My lord the stories are rarely true in my experience, however if the great Aurane Velaryon recognizes me than in this moment, there is not a man alive that can match my pride. Except perhaps yourself." When they laughed it sounded like a gust coming through a clearing in the trees, Byran supposed they could be father and son they looked so similar. For not the first time wondered if Entan was the bastard of Aegon, they were so far apart in appearance and attitude it always seemed an odd fit.

"I may not be a bastard anymore, but there are days where I miss the freedom that comes with that particular title." Aurane looked Entan up and down, and then glanced at Byran. "Well if none of the stories are true, you know how to pick friends, perhaps the best talent a man can have." Byran felt his lips curl, his normal smile was particularly ugly and had learned from an early age to keep his joy manageable, but Aurane had a way of putting people at ease that reminded him for the second time in the day of uncle Nithan.

"Well my lord I don't know if this will hold any value to you, but I would like to offer my friendship and not to speak for my friend but I'm sure Byran offers the same. Who knows what we three will be able to accomplish." Entan's smile was truly dazzling.


	5. Chapter 5

Raesel I

The air was always fresher the farther you were away from the Lord's Table, Raesel thought this must've been the _freshest_ table in the whole of the hall. Not that you had to be particularly close to hear the arguing that was being passed between the lords of riverlands at least of the ones north of Riverrun. The lords of the east riverlands like Lord Fraedric Cox who complained loudly and often about the difference of men if they were to raise banners, the man did like his _ifs. _Lady Roote was bolder by half, when she proclaimed the Tully's had sent many men with the king's parties north, a few lords glanced at her with a mix of amusement and contempt. Theomar II Smallwood sat quietly at one end of the table and watched impassively as the others bickered, Beric had pointed him out the previous night when she had gone to his room. 'Theomar is the Vance's eyes and ears; if I can't convince him to put in a good word then I need to convince him we pose no threat to the Vances.' When she asked of his eye he waved a hand and grimaced 'I already tire of people asking, it was a small price to pay to make a point.' Raesel looked up at the lofty roof and their voices faded away as she thought of Beric, he was not the boy she once knew, he had always been bold, but he had been sickly and weak she was always coming to his rescue. Once some Frey boys or another had taken to pushing her around, it had not bothered her over much. When Beric flew at them in such a fervor it was almost comical how they turned on him and tore him apart before Beric laid a hand on them. By the time she scared the boys away Beric was back on his feet and smiled at her like they had defeated a dragon together.

"Let's grow up to be knights, you and me against all the bullies." Raesel had been a moody girl then withdrawn and afraid, but he made her feel safe even when she was the one saving him.

"Ladies can't be knights everyone knows that."

"You don't know enough stories, there's the beauty Brienne, and Nymeria, or the legend of the shadow wolf, and you should know the sand snakes. They say the sand snakes were only as beautiful as they were dangerous. The dragon queen was Aegon reborn I've heard." Beric once claimed he knew every hero there was from Durran Godsgrief to Symeon Star-eyes. The memory left an ache in her stomach, the familiar fear crept into the edges of her mind, she didn't want anything to change, and they could be knights only in her dreams. Raesel was brought out of her thoughts by a squeal that escaped the lips of the girl next to her, the girl no older than 15 looked pale as if close to fainting. Raesel placed a hand on the girls and summoned the most soothing look she could manage.

"Are you alright sweet girl, you look like you've seen a ghost." The girl looked like she was about to shrink into her dress when she realized she had made the sound out loud.

"I-i-i just…" She looked like she wanted to bore holes in the table with her eyes. "It's kind of magical isn't it we're here at the dawn of something special I can feel it. They're like heroes of legend aren't they; they are talking about open rebellion like it's nothing." The innocent smile on the girl's face nearly broke Raesel's heart, but the laugh came out of her throat before she thought about it.

"You must be a year younger than me, but you seem like a sweet child." When the smile vanished Raesel realized the words seemed a criticism. "No, that's good, I think you and Lord Frey would get along in many ways he's still a child." The girl's eyes widened till they were in danger of eating her eyebrows.

"You know B-b-beric!" The girl looked at Raesel like a hero herself.

"I was his father's ward, we were raised together." Raesel found herself liking the girl, and the small smiles she flashed. The thoughts suddenly came unbidden, she saw herself pinning the girl against a summer tree.

"What kind of man is he, I have asked many people, but nobody seems to know anything about him." The longings didn't vanish as quickly as the usually did and for the first time in years Raesel found she had no words. "Oh of course, just because you grew up in the same house doesn't mean you know anything about him, it was rude of me to assume."  
"No!" her voice came out loud enough for a few people to look to her. "I mean that we are very good friends, we always were. You will have to be more specific though." The girl furrowed her brow as she thought. She lit up when she blurted her thought out.

"Is he mad?" She turned a pretty shade of pink as she realized what she said. "I mean-n-n is there any chance of all this will work." Raesel realised she'd never even considered if Beric could actually do what he always talked about, Beric's father could talk a horse out of its hooves.

"Well honestly I don't think he has a chance, but Beric would never start something he has no intention of seeing it through. He sees some way this all works, not even the maester's could beat him at Cyvasse. He may be mad but he sees something we simply can't, I don't think anyone can." If the girl's eyes were wide before, they had turned into plates on her face, Raesel hid the laugh behind a hand. "Or he's simply crazed, either way we haven't been properly introduced. My name is Raesel Dayne." The girl spun quickly and gave her the look; everyone gave her the same look when they heard her last name. The girl was frozen in place as she considered the hand like it may come up and kill her. When at last the girl grasped it Raesel smiled, perhaps she had more guts than she had originally thought.

"Alerah Smallwood, my father is up there but I'm guessing you already knew that." Alerah cocked her head as she smiled properly for the first time since the conversation began, Raesel thought that her heart might beat clear out of her chest.

"Your father might be the most important man in the room right now." The girl looked proud for a moment but she turned with a questioning look. "He will determine if the Vance's intervene or not, they are the most powerful house even if the Tully's are at their full strength." It seemed strange to Raesel her mouth opened but Beric's words were coming out. The voice echoes throughout the hall loud and a little bored.

"My lords and ladies I have heard your wise counsel, but I have not gathered you to talk about if we march. I ask where we shall march. Lord Cox if you embark on this journey with house Frey than every battle will be uphill; they will always have more men than us. Lady Roote I above all respect your bold words, but it matters not even if they sent half their men it will barely be even numbers. Lord Bracken spoke true when he said we have to win the hearts of the smallfolk. We march for Harrenhall and The Red Duchess we will wipe her out, her scourge on our land as been an affront that's lasted too long. She is a monster, but she holds too many hostages, if we were to free them." Beric's bandages covered half his head, but by the time he paused where his eye had been soaked through with blood. It looked like a rose had sprouted from his face. Ser Smallwood finished.

"That's a lot of houses who suddenly owe us a debt. How can we guarantee their safety, if they do come to harm that's a lot of houses with a grudge." Beric wild smile reminded her of the big red wildling that had once come through the twins; he was a bawdy man who had one night struck down three others laughing the whole time.

"I can think of a few things." The messenger sprinted through the open door; Beric had insisted that any man with the mind for it was welcome to sit in. Beric placed a hand on his little squire and grimaced.

"My lords it seems I have news. I hope you will excuse me as I retire to my chambers to read the words, we will meet at dinner and conclude our talks." Beric didn't wait for the response as he made a welcoming gesture to the messenger. "Get the man some meat and mead, Greyjoy gets his letter will you?" The boy scampered to the messenger, he looked so much like a hound, but Beric had sworn by the boy, once more he saw something others didn't. Alerah placed a hand on Raesel's shoulder.  
"It was a pleasure to meet you, but my father is leaving, maybe we can talk another time. It was a pleasure to meet you." Raesel managed a small nod, and a curtsy as the girl vanished into the people leaving.

It took awhile for the crowd to disperse, and when they did Raesel made her way to the small door that led to the smaller chambers that Beric had claimed for his office. He had posted two Frey guards outside the door adorned in the new colors he had selected for house Frey, the black and white was split with red. The black field was against a white moon The Twins were red taking up most of the banner.

"Raesel Dayne to see Lord Frey." One guard turned and opened the door allowing her passage, but the look was there somewhere beneath his training, poor girl it said.

"Sit down." Beric motioned at the seat across from him, and waited for the door to close. The moment it did he jumped up and hugged her tightly to him. "Sorry I have appearances to keep, and sorry we haven't had much time to talk." He held her at arm's length. "You're looking lovely, what can I do for you." He led her to the large comfy chair by the fire.

"It's lovely to see you too; I just wanted to be here. I know how quickly you tire of the bickering of lords." She sat in the big comfy chair and considered him. "You don't seem to be particularly in a bad mood." Beric called for his squire to bring two glasses of wine.

"How could I be in low spirits, those lords may annoy me, but it's happening my father's dream and now mine. I can taste it." He sat on the stones of the fireplace and placed his back against hearth. "He spent so long getting those men on board, and now I get to enjoy the fruits of his labors, I'm no good at the whole charming thing anyway." He wrinkled his nose and shut his eyes, but the small smile still pulled the corners of his lips up.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, but how on earth are you going to take Harrenhal, from the back of the room you certainly sounded mad." Raesel smiled down at her tall friend, but he didn't even open his eyes.

"I have a… Friend in Harrenhal, he owes me his life. I feel certain he'll pay me back now." Beric finally opened his eyes but he did not meet her name, apparently there was something very interesting on the roof. "I want to get you out of here. One way or another, the country will be stained with the blood I spill. Here I can't guarantee your safety; I want you to be safe." He finally turned his dark blue eyes on her. "You might be my only friend who knows… Well who I am, I want to do right by you." In his eyes she saw the little shift, he was drowning in himself, and soon enough there would be no Beric the boy.

"You can't be rid of me that easily, you taught me to dream. I owe you more than I can repay, if it means cutting down Jon Targearyen myself I will see this through." They both laughed at that, Raesel was always stronger than the other girls, but Jon's sword skills were the stuff of stories. "I know you hate the question, but are you really okay." She gestured with the goblet at his left side.

"There's nothing I can do about it. It hurts." He paused uncomfortable as he got. "A lot."

"You don't have to put a brave face for me, the path you're going down, you'll be required to lie to everyone, but I'm offering my services as a friendly ear." Beric shifted back against the stones.

"What did I do to deserve a friend like you? I don't think Smallwood will speak on our behalf, certainly if we fail to strip her out of Harrenhal. So next step is to take a cursed castle from an undead priestess." The smile spread across his face. "And they called me crazy for calling it the second age of heroes."

"So you really think she's back from the dead, does that mean her red god is real?" Raesel studied how he tensed slightly.

"Well, they say our king was brought back from the dead." He sounded unconvinced. "She certainly wants us to believe that she is some kind of magic, but if you have to tell everyone your magic then…" He shrugged. "Anyway there's no way to know what god brought her back or for what reason. God's mean nothing to me, they did nothing as my family tore itself apart, they did nothing as my sister was taken from us, hell they did nothing when that coward poisoned my father. The smallfolk need their gods though, so if anyone asks I spend every afternoon praying in the sept, or the godswood if they're northorn." Raesel was the only one to laugh this time. The boy, Victarion appeared out of nowhere, she hadn't even heard him open a door.

"My lord, my lady, I have another letter, it is of some importance."


End file.
